


Startled (And Quite Badly)

by WildnessBecomesYou



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, in the vaguest sense, long talks, mentions of abuse, navigating the after-effects of childhood abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: Gwendolyn accidentally startles Mildred while the latter is making breakfast; the effects of a lifetime of trauma make things a bit harder to navigate.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 54
Kudos: 196





	1. If I Show You the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This one hurts a bit more than the other stuff I've written for sure, but I am incapable of sad endings, so it still ends up with a fluffy ending.  
> Nothing specific is named regarding the abuse, just general allusions. Either way, proceed with caution, please ❤️
> 
> Check in with me at the end: Everybody okay? Need a cuddle?

She doesn’t mean to, she’s just broken.

Gwendolyn hasn’t done anything wrong. Not that it actually matters, but she’s done nothing wrong. 

It doesn’t matter, but Mildred wishes she could tell her that. It would make this next part easier. 

But right now, nothing registers, and the world is just a blur. And she’s broken. 

Mildred had been cooking; breakfast is an important meal, and eggs and toast are a good way to start, even if they are rather simple. They're perfectly nutritious. It’s something Mildred could do well at least. 

She hadn’t seen Gwendolyn come up behind her, hadn’t heard any footsteps; she was too focused on the eggs to notice the quiet sounds of bare feet on tile. She’d been lost in her own world, focused on the bubble and snap of the butter against the pan and protein. 

So it had been a surprise when Gwendolyn’s hands slid against her, one at her shoulder and one at her waist.

She doesn’t mean to, she’s just broken, a little rough around the edges and still sore. She’s never had the tenderness to patch up those wounds, so the lines are jagged, patches healed but still sensitive to the touch. 

Without thinking, she’s swung the frying pan over her shoulder, body following it’s trajectory, sending hot butter and half-cooked eggs flying, her left arm coming up to guard her face with her spatula as she tries to find an exit, away from the touch, away from the hot stove, away— 

“Jesus, Mildred, shit—“ 

She doesn’t mean to, she’s just broken. She doesn’t realize it’s Gwendolyn, her Gwen. 

She drops both the frying pan and the spatula. They clang to the floor and Gwendolyn winces at the noise. Mildred keeps backing up, until she bumps into the fridge, at which point she jumps what feels like a foot in the air and yelps, turning to face the fridge.

Her heart is beating so fast her vision swims, her head fogs up, her hands shake. She can’t breathe. She doesn’t hear Gwendolyn asking if she’s alright, asking what’s happening, doesn’t see her approach and stretch out her fingers. 

When Gwendolyn touches her, she screams and her legs give out. She huddles down on the floor. Tears bubble up in her throat, and she can’t swallow them down, can’t be quiet, and if she can just sob as quietly as possible maybe she won’t be hit as hard. Maybe she can outlast this. 

She doesn’t mean to, she’s just broken. The world swims around her, and if she can stay here, maybe she won’t remember what’s about to happen to her. She can huddle down and stay unaware and freeze and whatever they do won’t matter. 

But it doesn’t work, it never works for long, of course she has to know what it is. 

“Mildred? Mildred, please, can you hear me? I won’t touch you, Mildred, what’s going on?” 

She opens her eyes. It’s still all swimming before her. But Gwendolyn is kneeling in the wreckage of the kitchen, an arm’s length away, and her eyes are all full of concern. She’s holding her hands to her own knees. 

Mildred can see how hard she’s gripping her knees to keep from reaching out. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathes shakily. “I didn’t mean to, I…” 

Gwendolyn’s hands twitch. “What can I do for you?” she murmurs. 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Mildred’s fingernails scratch against the floor. 

“Darling, please don’t, you’ll make yourself bleed.” Mildred’s head snaps up again at Gwendolyn’s words. There’s tears in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I…” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Gwendolyn says, hiccupping on the end of the phrase. Her eyes close and she shakes her head, takes a short moment. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” She opens her eyes again and a few tears spill out, but she gives Mildred a gentle smile. 

The toaster finishes, popping the bread out with a loud “ding!” and Mildred jumps again, gasping, landing forward on her hands and knees. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Gwendolyn urges. “It was just the toaster.” Mildred nods back at her, but she’s shaky where she is. “Do you think you can stand?” 

“I don’t know,” she admits. 

“Okay, that’s alright.” To Mildred’s surprise, Gwendolyn is taking all this quite in stride. She roughly brushes a tear away, then pats her knees and stands. “I’m going to get this cleaned up.”

Mildred can’t believe how…calm she sounds. How self assured she is. 

“I just _attacked_ you with a _frying pan_ ,” she lets out, then clamps her hand over her own mouth, horrified. 

But Gwendolyn is already up and moving, frying pan and spatula in the sink, wetting down a towel to clean the remnants of breakfast. It takes her a moment to respond. “I startled you,” she says, as if that excuses everything. “Apparently quite badly.” 

She doesn’t mean to, she’s just broken. She doesn’t mean to ruin things. It just happens. 

She pushes herself back until she’s on her backside, leaning up against the fridge for support. She feels like she’s burning up, so she stretches her legs out. And it hurts.

There’s a sudden movement, and she sits up straight, eyes shooting open again. But it’s just Gwendolyn, looking at her, having tossed the now-dirtied eggs in the trash. “Are you alright? You made a noise.” 

“I think I hurt myself,” Mildred admits. She’s freezing now, and she pulls her legs closer to herself, and it hurts again. “I definitely hurt myself,” she winces. 

Gwendolyn abandons the towel in her hand, lets it plop back into the sink. “Where are you hurt?”

She stops just short of Mildred, unsure, and Mildred feels tears stinging at her eyes again. She’s lost Gwendolyn. She’s scared her away, and she’s pushed her away, and she’s lost herself the one truly good thing that’s happened to her— 

“Can you show me?” Mildred looks up and Gwendolyn is kneeling before her again, smiling at her, and Mildred just wants to cry more. “Hey, no, darling, it’s okay, can you just show me?”

“I—“ Mildred hiccups. “I think I must’ve burned myself, when I…”

“On your back?” Gwen asks. 

“The back of my leg, I think.” Mildred shakes her head, and then she reaches for her thigh. The skin there stings when she touches it. She hisses in pain. “The back of my leg.” 

Gwendolyn nods, stands up again. “If the hot butter got on it, we need to wash it off before it hurts you too much more.” She pauses for a moment, then holds a hand out. “Do you want help standing?” 

Mildred reaches for her in answer. She feels so weak. “I— I can’t…” 

Gwendolyn doesn’t need much more. She reaches both arms out, bending down, but she waits for Mildred to make the last move. Mildred tips forward and finds herself lifted by Gwendolyn, reminded of how strong the older woman is. And suddenly all she wants is to be held. 

“Gwen, I’m sorry,” she breathes against her neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… can you just…”

She doesn’t need to finish, Gwen has pulled her close, cradling her, and she doesn’t feel so cold, she feels just a little more safe. “I’ve got you, Mildred,” she murmurs, and it’s so low that she feels it more than hears it. “No one will hurt you here. You’re okay.” 

She scrunches her hands up in Gwendolyn’s shirt material, nuzzling closer, pressing herself against the older woman. She takes a shaky breath, lets it out the same way. The next one is just a bit more steady. 

“We do need to get that burn taken care of,” Gwendolyn reminds her. “And I do want to talk about this later.” Her hand has started to skate up and down Mildred’s back in wide, smoothing circles. “But let’s get you a shower first, okay?” 

Mildred nods, but doesn’t move. “And maybe a nap?” 

She can hear Gwendolyn stifle a chuckle. “You must be very tired.” Mildred nods again. “Let’s get going, hmm?” 

She doesn’t mean to, she’s just broken. But Gwendolyn is there to sweep up her broken pieces.


	2. Bring Me to Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a talk that needs to be had; Gwendolyn is patient through Mildred's nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! Fluff! Everything is okay! 
> 
> I mean, also important conversations, but in the context of fluff.

The shower is cold out of necessity, and it does help the burn. She shivers through it, trying to scrub the remnants of butter fat off her skin. 

How is she going to explain this to Gwendolyn? She hadn’t actually hit her with the frying pan, but it could have happened, and then they would have been in real trouble. Good lord, she could have killed Gwendolyn. 

_You keep putting her in danger,_ a cruel voice intones. 

She lets out a shaky breath. 

“Mildred, dear, I’m putting a towel on the sink. It’s warmed up.”

She jumps slightly, flinging out a hand and stabilizing herself against the shower wall. “Oh— thank you,” she calls. The door clicks open and she can hear Gwendolyn inhale at the chill in the room. But she doesn’t say anything, just leaves the towel on the counter and closes the door. 

Mildred turns off the water, shaking enough that droplets of water jump away from her skin. She reaches for the towel, and it is warm, and she holds it to her face for a moment. 

It smells like Gwendolyn. Like lavender and old smoke and coffee freshly ground. Like home. Like safety. 

She wants to be buried in it. 

So she towels herself off and reaches for the robe on the back of the bathroom door— it smells like Gwendolyn too, and she wraps it around herself, breathing in deeply. She hangs up the towel and steels herself.

She has no idea how she’s going to explain this to Gwendolyn. But she has to try. 

When she opens the door, Gwendolyn is sitting on her side of the bed, the curtains of the room drawn. The sheets are still messed up. (Even if they make the bed in the morning, it’s mussed by afternoon; some mornings they don’t bother fixing it, and Gwendolyn seems to have elected not to fix it while Mildred showered.) It’s a large bed, and it intimidates Mildred.

Until Gwendolyn looks up from her book, smiling and setting the book aside, holding out a hand to Mildred. 

Mildred moves towards her, and then decides the safe space in their bed is the exact spot Gwendolyn occupies. She slots herself between Gwendolyn’s legs, presses her ear to the spot just below Gwen’s collarbone, wraps her arms around Gwen’s shoulders. 

Gwendolyn, for her part, closes in around her, leaning her head forward to rest her lips on the top of Mildred’s head. She drapes her arms around the younger woman’s back, pulls her thighs closer to Mildred’s sides. 

They spend a quiet moment this way. Mildred focuses on Gwendolyn’s heartbeat, steady, slow, safe. Then she feels her smile, tilts her chin up in question. “You’re wearing my robe.” 

“It smelled like you,” she admits shyly. “It felt safe.” 

She gets a little squeeze around the waist for that. “Did you feel unsafe?” 

“I…” She doesn’t know how to explain this. It’s too hard to explain. She does and she doesn’t, but that’s her baseline, never really knowing where she is or how safe until she’s in this position, held by the one person who’s never hurt her. 

“Mildred?” 

“It wasn’t you,” she starts tentatively. She wants to see Gwendolyn’s face, but she doesn’t, she’s scared of seeing rejection. She thinks she can handle fear, because Gwendolyn is brave. She’s faced fear. She was shot in the chest because she’s brave. 

“Hey, Mildred.” Mildred feels her face being guided up, finds Gwendolyn’s face in front of hers. A thumb on her lips makes her realise she’s been biting at it. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Mildred blinks and tears roll down her cheeks. Oh, she’s crying, she hadn’t realized that. “I’m scared,” she admits. 

“Why?” She asks it like it’s the simplest question in the world. 

Mildred swallows and blinks a few times. “I’m scared you’ll decide I’m— I’m too much trouble.” 

“Oh,” Gwendolyn says, and then lets out a short guffaw. “You’re not… Mildred, if I thought you were too much trouble I doubt we would have made it past the oysters.”

Mildred smiles and presses her cheek against Gwendolyn’s chest. “You promise?” 

“Mildred Ratched,” Gwendolyn murmurs, her fingers ghosting over Mildred’s skin, the younger woman’s eyes drifting closed at the sensation, “I couldn’t push you away if I wanted to. And I very much doubt I ever will.” There’s a short, nearly gasped inhale and Mildred opens her eyes. “Honestly, I doubt I could survive you being gone.” 

“Please don’t,” Mildred rasps. “I can’t— please don’t.” 

“Okay.” It’s an acquiescence, not a withdrawal. But it’s accompanied by another kiss to the crown and a stroke of Mildred’s jaw, so she’ll take it. “So tell me, did you feel unsafe?” 

Mildred swallows, suddenly wishing there was distance between them. She could run and hide if there were. And her arms are starting to ache. So she starts to shift, and Gwendolyn loosens her grip.

She misses that immediately, so she sits up and fluffs some pillows, then tugs Gwendolyn towards them. Gwendolyn raises an eyebrow. “Please, Gwen?”

She’s met with a gentle smile, and Gwen leans back, reclining. Mildred crawls up her again, but folds her hands together over Gwendolyn’s sternum, so they can look at each other. Gwendolyn cages her in again, and Mildred wants to fall asleep like this, wake up like this, live like this— 

So she owes an explanation, even though she has no idea how to explain it. “Do you remember when I told you about— a-after the puppet show, in the restaurant, about what happened to my brother and me?” 

Gwendolyn nods, tucking stray hairs behind Mildred’s ears. 

“I think, uhm. I think it’s always in my head.” She stutters over words for a moment. “It’s not always in the front of my head, but anything I can’t see coming is— it reminds me— it pulls me back to that moment.” 

She goes to sit up, curl into herself, but Gwendolyn’s hands drag along her skin and she doesn’t want to lose that warmth, that promise of safety. She gets stuck halfway between relaxing and moving, and her body doesn’t seem to know what to do.

“So you were defending yourself,” Gwendolyn says. 

“Yes? But not— not against you, I don’t know, it wasn’t you, it was—“ she flounders for a moment. “I don’t know. Yes. But you don’t scare me. Well, you do,” she tries to joke, smiling up at Gwen. “But not like that.” 

Gwen gifts her a smile. “That’s alright, you scare me too sometimes.” Mildred gives her a watery smile. “Has this happened before?” 

“Uhm.” She takes a shaky breath. “Yes? I think you’ve seen a less…intense version?” 

Gwendolyn blinks a few times. Her lips purse slightly and Mildred falls in love with her again. “The day I met you,” she starts. “You were helping a priest in the asylum, and the other nurse—“ 

“Betsy Bucket.”

“Sure. She touched your shoulder and you…snapped at her a little.” She looks down at Mildred, eyes slightly narrowed. “Is that right?” 

“Yes.” 

“And when I… the women’s bar.” 

Mildred swallows down guilt. “Yes.” 

Gwendolyn takes a deep breath and lets it out evenly. Mildred looks up at her hesitantly. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “So why was it... more today?” 

Mildred bites her lip out of habit. It tastes a little coppery now. “I think because I wasn’t expecting anything, it took me by surprise more. I wasn’t aware of the world, I guess, and getting— being startled like that, I…overreacted.” 

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Gwendolyn murmurs. “Overreacting. You were trying to protect yourself.”

“But I don’t need to, not from you,” Mildred says.

She doesn’t miss the way Gwendolyn lights up at that. It’s like the sun behind her eyes, like warmth redefined, like a ocean wave crashing on the shore and splitting into flecks of foam. Mildred falls in love with her all over again. Her body relaxes back against Gwendolyn’s instinctually. 

“Oh, sweetness,” Gwendolyn murmurs, her hands skating up Mildred’s arms, and Mildred’s chest tingles at the name, “I’m so glad you feel that way.” 

Mildred can feel herself blushing. She hides her face in her hands and Gwendolyn’s chest. “Come now, let me see you.” She comes out of her hiding place, and Gwendolyn’s fingers start to trace her features. The touch is light, it’s warm, it’s gentle and soft and tender. 

Mildred feels something in her chest knit together. An old wound, maybe, one inflicted on her heart. Whatever it is, it’s deep in her, a place she isn’t even sure actually exists. 

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you again,” Gwendolyn murmurs, and her face and fingers are still soft. But her eyes have a fire behind them, something that makes Mildred believe that anyone who tries to hurt her would be paying dearly. She reaches up to touch Gwendolyn’s lips, the soft smile on them, the lines at the corners of her mouth. 

Gwendolyn catches her wrist, disturbing her fascinated observations, and presses kisses to each fingertip. She curls Mildred’s fingers over her own, kisses her knuckles, the back of her hand. She straightens the hand out again and kisses her palm, the spot on the inside of her wrist where her pulse is currently picking up the slightest bit. She pauses there, the heel of Mildred’s hand resting against her cheekbone, her eyes closed, breathing deeply.

Mildred worries for a moment that she doesn’t feel well, but none of the usual signs of nausea are there, and her breathing is more even than it had been most of this conversation. 

“Gwendolyn?”

Gwendolyn’s eyes flutter open and she looks to Mildred through half-closed lids, a smile on her face as she presses a final kiss to Mildred’s wrist. 

She relinquishes the hand and Mildred wishes she hadn’t. But she lets it fall back to Gwendolyn’s chest, tucks her chin atop her hands. 

They share a quiet, peaceful moment. 

Gwendolyn breaks it. “So,” she half-sighs, “I suppose I shouldn’t come up behind you.” 

Mildred thinks about losing the moment where she gets to lean back against Gwendolyn’s chest, be held and supported, and she frowns. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” 

(She couldn’t bear to lose that moment, she loves the way Gwendolyn holds her.) 

Gwendolyn cocks her head a bit. “So what do we need?”

Mildred can’t help but smile. We. “I think…I think as long as I can hear you or see you coming, I won’t react like that. Just a bit of a heads up.”

Gwendolyn hums as if she’s considering the proposition. But she squeezes Mildred’s waist, and the younger woman knows she’s joking, reaches up to tuck a curl behind her ear. “I think I can do that,” she finally says, smiling at Mildred. 

“Okay,” Mildred breathes. 

Suddenly it hits her just how tired she is. It feels like she’s already lived a day. She tries to fight down a yawn, but her eyes flutter towards closed without her permission.

Gwendolyn chuckles at her. “I think you still want that nap.” 

Mildred groans, but she nods. “Alright, alright, come here,” Gwendolyn murmurs, amusement still clear in her voice. She scoops Mildred close and rolls off the mountain of pillows Mildred had created before— Mildred giggles and presses her forehead to the spot between Gwendolyn’s collarbones. She feels Gwendolyn shifting things around as she’s propped herself up above Mildred, but it’s not until Gwen’s hand is cupping the back of her neck that she realizes Gwen is effectively building them a pillow nest. 

Gwendolyn finally decides she’s happy with how the pillows are arranged and lays Mildred’s head down with the sort of tenderness that makes Mildred think she might be made of glass. Gwendolyn sits up and pats Mildred’s hip. “Turn over for me?”

Mildred does, and Gwen’s fingers land softly on the backs of her thighs. “It doesn’t look bad, at least.” Mildred looks over the shoulder. “You do have a burn. But it…looks more like a sunburn than anything else.”

“That’s good.”

Gwendolyn nods, pats Mildred’s hip again, lays down next to her. They look into each other’s eyes for a moment. 

All of a sudden, Mildred has to say it. She’s never needed to say it this much and it just bursts from her. “I love you.” 

Gwendolyn smiles and nuzzles her nose against Mildred’s. “I love you too, my very own darling.” 

Mildred feels like she can breathe easy for the first time in ages. There’s no weight on her chest. She just might float away if Gwendolyn lets go of her. She can’t stop staring at the woman in front of her, brings her hand up to cup her cheek. 

“Go ahead, sleep,” Gwendolyn says, pulling Mildred closer. “I’ll be right here when you wake.”

“Promise?” She doesn’t know why her mouth keeps speaking without her permission. 

Gwendolyn smiles. “I promise.” 

Mildred nods, and eventually trusts her eyes to close. As she drifts to sleep, she feels her hand start to slide from it’s position on Gwendolyn’s cheek, but it’s caught, given a kiss on the palm. She smiles in her half-asleep state as Gwendolyn curves Mildred's hand in again around her own, presses a kiss to Mildred's knuckles, and brings it close to her heart. 

She feels completely safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much the entire time I wrote this chapter, I was listening to the song "Bring Me to Light" from the show Violet (switching between the 2014 cast recording here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GImSK2JsQSc&ab_channel=TheatreCast  
> and a version recorded at my college performed by my classmates. If you message me on tumblr at vocallife I can send you that link :) 
> 
> Lyrics are important to me, so here's the lyrics: 
> 
> _Momma, why's a man have eyes?  
>  If I tell you, don't you tell.  
> Momma, why's a man have hands?  
> If I tell you, don't you tell.  
> He'll ask you 'fore he understands, there's honey in the bushes, boy, and water in the well._
> 
> _If I ask you to be with me by and by  
>  Will you meet me tonight, love?  
> If it's too dark to see with the naked eye  
> Will you bring me to light?_
> 
> _If I happen to stagger and fall behind  
>  Will you help me to fight, love?  
> Will you help me to walk, will you ease my mind?_
> 
> _Will you bring me to light?  
>  Will you bring me to light?_
> 
> _I know you will try  
>  To help me find my way, love  
> I won't wonder why  
> When nights are long  
> If you'll hold me 'til it's light_
> 
> _Like a comet that catches you by surprise  
>  Like a star in the night, love  
> Like a baby the first time she opens her eyes  
> Will you bring me to light?  
> Will you bring me to light?  
> Will you bring me to light?  
> To light, to light, to light, to light_
> 
> _Left my troubles  
>  Back there when I climbed on board  
> Jordan River's where you'll find me  
> It's wide, but not too wide to ford  
> And as I go, and as I go along  
> I want you with me_
> 
> _If I tell you my heart has been opened wide  
>  If I tell you I'm frightened  
> If I show you the darkness  
> I hold inside_
> 
> _Will you bring me to light?_  
>  _Will you bring me to light?_  
>  _Will you bring me to light?_


End file.
